An argument about who knows what. As always, my intentions for calm rationality overcome by something deep within. The words are out before I can edit them. I can see them moving at 768 mph toward her ears, but I'm not quick enough to catch them. I want to apologize immediately, but there is a wall, built by rage, that I am incapable, in the moment's heat, of steering around. What can I do? I head outdoors to find some composure.

the narrow path
through prehistoric bracken
leads me back . . .
oh, if time could be stopped
outside these woods